Back East Again

Flying back in 1946 was not like today. Especially in the '40's. Every year there would be crashes, especiallin in the Rocky Mountains. I got a ticket on Capitol Airlines, which later was absorbed by United. The liner was a rather beat-up plane: its cabin heaters didn't work well, and a lot of the ceiling lights didn't work. The plane took off after numerous delays, about 11 PM. In the middle of the night we stopped in Billings. In the early morning hours we stopped in Minneapolis - St Paul. Over Lake Michigan we developed engine trouble, and landed near Detroit at the River Rouge plant. Presumed repairs were made and we took off for Pittsburgh. The repairs didn't work; one engine kept backfiring, but we kept going anyway, and finally made it to Pittsburgh OK.

I had arranged ahead of time to drop in for a short visit with an old Navy buddy, Al McBride. We were in boot camp together at Great Lakes Training Center, Illinois. He had started at Carnegie Tech to major in Engineering, but later thought better of it and transferred to University of Pittsburgh; eventually he got a Law degree. His dad had a politically appointed job. I spent a day or two in Pittsburgh to check things out in general, and Carnegie Tech in particular. Then I continued my journey East by plane, heading for Hartford via New York.

I spent the month of January at home on the farm with my parents, and joined the "52-20 club", which was an arrangement whereby returning veterans not gainfully employed could collect $20 per week for a whole year if necessary. But actually I wasn't strenuously looking for work at that time. Others needed it much more than I did, but I just dipped into the gravy train anyway during that January, sorry.

Finally, when the time came, I took the train to Pittsburgh, changing trains at Grand Central Station, NYC. I travelled rather heavy, with a big stack of 78 RMP phonograph records. Oh, I forgot to mention that I even took a few phonograph records along on the USS Topeka, including "Three O'Clock in the Morning", and "Prisonero del Mar". Anyway, changing trains at Grand Central Station quickly with several very heavy suitcases was more than I could manage, so a porter charged right in and relieved me. I had to tip him, and all I had was a $2 bill. I didn't mean to give him that much, but he took it and left quickly without giving me any change.

I found a room with a family on Squirrel Hill, not far from campus, and moved in. But for some reason I felt very out of place because they were Jewish, so I kept looking, and found another family in East Liberty, just a little further out, with Mr. & Mrs. D. R. McNeilly.

More about the McNeilly's later, I have to go.